


The Ghosts

by MKK



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKK/pseuds/MKK
Summary: Garak and Odo have not returned from their mission to the Gamma Quadrant in search of Enabran Tain - in fact, they are missing and presumed dead, and Julian Bashir finds himself dealing with that news badly.  Very, very badly.  Until, that is, he begins to wonder if Garak hasn't perhaps returned after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is obviously an alternate take on events at the time of "The Die is Cast." If it seems a little dark, well, it's going to develop in ways I couldn't tag without giving it away, and the mood of the story will shift too. Enough said!

"Of all ghosts the ghosts of our old loves are the worst." Arthur Conan Doyle

 

It was three, maybe four, days after the disappearance that I first began to realize something strange was happening. I was alone in my quarters, as usual, finishing off a rather large bottle of Saurian brandy, as usual. I had for some odd reason developed a taste for it, both for the flavor and the effects - and now Quark was already beginning to complain that I was depleting his stock of non-synthetic alcohol. "Then you'd better procure some new stock," I ruefully thought, "either that or give me the name of your supplier and I'll get my own." I was perfectly willing to fill prescriptions for myself for a few sleep- or euphoria-inducing medications as well - I was particularly interested then in the ones that blocked dream sleep - but somehow the old-fashioned method of numbing the pain still seemed the most effective.

Damn the after-effects, though. Any day now, Commander Sisko would be sure to summon me to his office for "the talk." And what would I say to him? "Yes, you're right, sir. I HAVE been drinking a little too much lately. I'm not surprised you noticed that. I've been struggling with a couple of personal issues and thought this might help. And yes, I'm very sorry, I'll stop immediately. I'll concentrate on my duties, as I should have been doing all along. I'll try to forget all about Garak if you order me to." Well, and Odo too, of course, I'd add as his eyebrows rose. I'll completely ignore the fact that my last meeting with Garak was awkward almost to the point of ridiculousness. 'Delavian chocolates,' indeed. How could I just stand there, with that silly smile on my face, and calmly watch him board that ship? Where the hell did I think he was going - for a little pleasure cruise with the Chief of Security? Come on now, Doctor - that was your chance, at last, and you were too stupid to realize it. Didn't you see the look he gave you? You should have wrapped your arms around his neck and held onto him, watched those blue eyes widen, made him forget all about Tain and the Romulans and everyone in the galaxy except you. God knows, you can hardly think about anyone in the galaxy except for HIM now. 

Well, as I said, I was alone in my quarters after a particularly grueling day in the infirmary. The work hadn't been especially difficult that day, no more than usual, but my physical condition made it almost impossible to concentrate and remain focused on any particular task. I suppose several sleepless nights in a row, drinking myself almost to the point of oblivion, wasn't the way to prepare for a long shift on duty either. When I wasn't reflecting on what I would do differently, how I would have acted if I could go back in time, I was painting a picture in my mind of Garak's burned or crushed body, lying broken on the surface of some Gamma Quadrant planet or floating forever in space in the derelict runabout. Odo, I assumed, would have automatically reverted to his natural, liquid state at the moment of his death. Or did a Changeling ever die? And if he indeed died with Garak, how did it happen, I wondered - did they suffer very long? Or were their deaths merciful and short? 

I doubted that the Jem'Hadar had any interest in the bodies, after the moment of death - at least I didn't have to imagine any additional abuse inflicted on them. And again, for the hundredth time, I thought of him, leaning forward, turning back to me, almost willing me to say something more to him, to move toward him, to tell him I was very, very sorry he was leaving and I wanted him to stay. He wouldn't have, of course - he wasn't afraid of the dangerous aspects to the mission - but I could at least have told him. 

I sat on the couch near the window and turned so I could stare out at the stars, imagining myself boarding that runabout with Garak and Odo, facing battle and death with them. I could certainly have manufactured some reason why I be allowed to go too. It was infinitely better to imagine myself DOING something, after all - it made the regret and the pain a little less keen. Not much less, though. I took another long swallow of brandy just as my combadge chirped. Damn it to hell - this was exactly what I didn't need, a summons to the infirmary, alcohol on my breath, my speech slurred, my movements slow and uncoordinated. Why did they never see fit to call my backup first? Why was it always me, no matter the hour? Or was this instead a new tactic of Sisko's? Either way, my assistant had managed to secure himself just about the plushest job in the Starfleet Medical Corps. "This is Bashir," I groggily announced, as I tapped the communicator. Nothing. I tried again. "Bashir to infirmary." Again nothing. Damn. I staggered over to the comm unit mounted near the door. "Bashir to infirmary. Respond, please." This time, one of the nurses answered.

"Yes, doctor?"

"Did you just try to contact me?"

"No," sounding surprised.

"Oh. I'm - I'm sorry. I must have been mistaken. Bashir out." Now I was hearing things,was I? This was not good. I realized, even in my inebriated state, that it wasn't necessarily the staff in the infirmary who had been trying to reach me, but it also seemed ridiculously unnecessary to page all my senior officers at 2515 hours, and ask them with a slurred voice if they wanted me for anything. I went back to my bottle and my melancholy thoughts. If anyone really needed me, they'd try again.

I fell asleep on the couch, finally, no illumination in the room except for the starlight streaming in through the window and the faint emergency guide lights near the door. Naturally, I did not sleep peacefully; there must have been a hundred voices crowding my brain, with one or the other struggling for ascendancy as I fitfully tried to make sense of them all, put them in some kind of order. "I think I can tell you the real reason for their trip to Cardassia, doctor - at least I can fill in any gaps that you don't already know." "Not even the Defiant's sensors could locate the runabout, Julian. We're assuming... it was lost or destroyed during an attack on the Romulans by the Jem'Hadar. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry - I'm so sorry. I know how much your friendship with him meant to you." "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" "Of course we'll keep looking. The Cardassians and the Romulans are also sending out ships, looking for their own survivors. Try not to worry - if they're alive, we'll find them. And - I'm sure they're alive," said almost as an afterthought despite the best intentions of the speaker. "We'll keep looking until we find them." "Take as much time as you need. Whenever you want to talk, I'll be here." 

"Leave me alone!" I shouted at them; I must have screamed out loud, because I awoke to the eerie sound of the after-echo of my own voice in the silent room. I slowly hoisted myself to a sitting position; as I did so, the combadge I had left lying on the table chirped again. I tapped it. "Bashir." My mouth felt as if it were filled with wads of cotton. No response. O'Brien had better take a look at that thing tomorrow, I resolved, as I limped to bed, pulled the blanket up over my ears, and tuned out the faint chirp - chirp - chirp the device was continuing to emit.

Of course no one had been trying to contact me - I found that out the next morning, as I groggily reported for my shift. According to O'Brien, nothing was wrong with the communicator either - absolutely nothing. I was issued a new one anyway. I'm sure the chief suspected that the only "problem" with the old one was the physical condition of its owner, but no matter, I requested a new combadge and I got it. O'Brien joined me for lunch later that morning, at the replimat.

"So, D- Julian, how are things going?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Of course." Puzzled, and faintly insulted that I should question his sincerity or his compassion. I felt for him.

"All right then." I took a deep breath. "I'm finding it nearly impossible to cope with this, chief. I can't stop thinking about them, and especially about him, no matter what I do."

"Him?"

"Garak." At his look of puzzled concern, I took another deep breath and plunged ahead. "You see, chief, Garak and I - well, Garak and I were very close friends, and... and I had been wanting us to get even closer."

"I see." No, he didn't see, or at least he was trying desperately NOT to see. I continued.

"We were almost getting to the stage of becoming, well... More than friends, chief. Almost. Do you know what I'm trying to say?" I stole a look at his face; he was staring into his soup, carefully neutral, acting as if the bowl in front of him was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. "Does that shock you?"

"Shock me?" He laughed uncomfortably. "I've been shocked by a lot of things in my life, Julian - that is not one of them." He looked back down into the bowl, trying manfully to hide his expression of... shock. 

"I don't believe you." He began to protest, but I cut him off. "It doesn't matter anyway. No one else was supposed to know anything about this; it was all my idea. It would only have made things difficult for Garak." I paused as I tried to frame my next words. "It's just that... I had spent so much time with him, had so many good conversations, had finally gotten him to open up a little to me about his past... And so I had finally arrived at the conclusion, perhaps, that what I felt about him, what I felt when we were together, was more than just simple friendship." O'Brien shifted uncomfortably. "I were starting to discover that the - attraction - I sensed for him was genuine, not some remnant of my initial curiosity about him."

His eyes briefly widened before his face furrowed into a puzzled scowl. "But - well, but I guess I thought that you and Dax -"

"Yes, we are. But not like that. That was a long time ago, chief."

"I suppose so," he said with an unconvinced air. 

I let the silence draw out a little longer. "And so that's where things stood. At least on his part. But, on mine, well... after long and careful deliberation-" I looked down at my hands, "I had decided to stop hiding what it was I felt for him. From myself, if not from him." O'Brien swiftly got to his feet. "I'm sorry - I DID shock you."

"No, of course not." He smiled at me, but I knew he was, if not desperately uncomfortable, at least nonplussed at the turn the conversation had taken. I sighed as I, too, stood up and carried my tray to the disposal bin.

"Well, perhaps we can talk again later."

"Yes, you definitely need to talk about this - I wholeheartedly agree. You've got an appointment with that psych doc from Starfleet medical, correct?" I nodded resignedly. A psych doc. He had to be kidding me. He sensed my change in mood and forced another smile onto his face. "And then too, I was thinking, I mean, you need to stop by once in a while. We miss you lately. Besides, Keiko would be a good person for you to see also. She's very understanding, very open-minded, a good listener -"

"Thanks, chief. Thank you for asking me. I'll think about it." We nodded our good-byes and I watched him as he hurried away down the corridor, an expression almost of relief on his face. Yes, all right, I thought bitterly, we're finished here. You can go now. I won't shout after you. Keiko indeed. So much for the welcome understanding of friendship.

 

That evening, I was both exhausted and hyper-alert, listening for any sounds, any chirps or tones, anything at all that would prove the incidents of the night before had been more than a fluke. Nothing. Nothing at all, no signals, no communication beyond the usual nightly call from Dax to see if I was all right. That was kind of her. To be honest, it was more than kind - I was beginning to wonder about her motives. Oh, not that I deceived myself into thinking she wanted to rekindle something that had never even flourished to begin with, but that she wanted somehow to - well, to comfort me. And it embarrasses me to admit it, but I was gradually coming around to the idea that a little comfort might not be such a bad thing after all. It would keep me from being alone all night every night, anyway, even if all I did was sit in her quarters and fall asleep on her couch... or perhaps somewhere else. So I signaled her room again.

"Yes? Did you forget something, Julian?"

"Well, no - I mean, yes. I've changed my mind. Feel like a little company tonight after all? Maybe have a drink with me?"

"I'll give you some company but not a drink. How about if I just stop over to talk?"

"Over here?"

"Yes, of course."

I didn't feel like spending any more time alone in my quarters than I already had. "I think I'd like a little change of scenery, if it's all the same to you. How about your place?"

"That'd be fine. Or maybe we could go to Quark's?" 

Ah. So I was perhaps misreading her motives. That was all right too, I supposed. We arranged to meet in ten minutes and signed off. Strange, how missing Garak so keenly was driving me directly back into the arms of someone who was practically his mirror opposite. Dax was open, direct, and assertive when she needed to be. Garak was - well, Garak was Garak. Never met anyone like him in my entire life, and no doubt never would again. Ever again. I slumped down in my chair and buried my face in my hands, but I didn't cry. Not then. I was too numb, and a part of me was too embarrassed to walk into Quark's with red eyes or a stuffy nose - the expressions of sympathy would practically turn my stomach. I jumped to my feet, splashed some cold water on my face, and headed out.

 

Three hours later, I was lying in Jadzia's roomy bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to tamp down the slight nausea that kept threatening to well up - oh, not, I must quickly add, because of poor Jadzia, who slept chastely next to me and had done nothing more than lead me, staggering, to her quarters and dump me unceremoniously into the bed before tugging off my boots. I had made a fool of myself again, despite all her efforts - I had snuck a bottle into the lavatory like a schoolboy and emerged more jolly and more drunk each time. She knew what was happening - how could she not? - but kept trying to talk sense into me rather than leave me alone in the bar. Didn't work. The sense, that is. But now here I was, wide awake, thoughts swirling around me like ghosts.

My combadge chirped.

I ignored it. It chirped again. Sighing, I very quietly and very slowly tried to slide just far enough out of the bed to reach it - it was lying on the floor near my boots; I was still fully clothed, so it must have popped off in my struggle to get into bed in the first place. There it lay, just a few centimeters out of reach - no, I almost had it - just one more fraction of a centimeter and I'd reach it - and I slid out of bed and thumped down hard onto the floor. I saw Jadzia shift slightly but otherwise appear to be asleep. I tapped the badge.

Nothing, of course. Not a sound. But - no, then there WAS a sound, the faintest whisper, like static, but definitely a sound. The room was too quiet for me to mistake it for anything else. On the other hand, what did it signify? What did a little burst of faraway static even mean? Any hopes I had been illogically forming were ridiculous in the extreme. Still, I squeezed the combadge as if it were going to save my life, took a deep breath, and whispered into it, "Garak?"

Nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Suddenly a tousled head appeared over the side of the bed and two sleepy eyes blinked down at me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm - nothing. I'm not doing anything." I grabbed hold of the edge of the mattress and hoisted myself unsteadily to my feet. A little wave of dizziness passed over me at that point and I half-collapsed, bent at the waist, against the bed. Dax regarded me with an expression of resignation.

"You were thinking that was Garak again. I heard you say his name."

"No, I wasn't - I mean, I was, but purely out of - Dax, it could very well be picking up a signal from him. From them."

"No, it can't. There's absolutely no way." She reached out and guided me back into the bed. "Communicators have a range no further than the limits of the station and possibly out onto a docked ship. That's it."

"You're wrong. I mean, of course you know you're wrong. I've been on plenty of away missions when -"

"That's because the communications equipment on the runabout or a ship augments the range. You can't just tap a communicator and expect it to be picked up on, oh, Bajor, from here. Come on, Julian, be reasonable." Her eyes narrowed with concern. "You know we're doing all we can to find them. You do know that, right?" I nodded reluctantly. "But these things you're doing -" I winced. "The drinking, the delusions..."

"They're not delusions."

"All right, they're not delusions. I'm sorry I said that. I can understand your feelings about all this. But you're hurting yourself now - you're not bringing them back this way, you're hurting yourself physically and mentally and possibly jeopardizing your career. And for what?" I winced again. "No, no, I'm sorry," she hurriedly said. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I'm just - I'm just scared for you. I don't know how to help you now and it's hurting ME." 

I leaned back against her and she wrapped an arm comfortingly around my chest. "I know."

"Then sleep. Go back to sleep. If anything happens, someone will wake us. If not, we can attack the search with fresh minds and fresh ideas tomorrow." 

"Fresh ideas..." I mumbled, already drifting off. "Sure, all right." Sure. Was that another chime? No, I didn't hear anything.

 

"A what?" Major Kira stood, hands on hips, and regarded me with both amazement and incredulity. Actually, I suppose in this instance they were one and the same thing. "WHO did you say you wanted me to locate?"

"I just thought maybe you - I mean, you being Bajoran and all.... I thought you might know someone." I looked down and busied myself with my meal as I tried to cover my embarrassment. I had thought she'd be at least a little flattered I asked her, maybe even curious about the results - instead, I got the distinct impression I had just been wildly inappropriate. Again. 

"What's being Bajoran got to do with it?"

Oh no. I was both mortified and a little offended that she was taking this attitude toward my request - surely what I had been proposing over lunch wasn't so very odd. And, after all, she knew, or at least guessed, that I had a more than professional reason for taking the loss of Garak and Odo so hard. Didn't she, herself, have such a reason? Or was I only imagining the glimmers of interest I had sensed in her toward Odo? God knew she certainly didn't have much concern over Garak. But Odo? Come now, Major - get off your high Bajoran horse and help me. She sat back down and gave me one of those supercilious smiles that always annoyed the hell out of me.

"You've got to admit - it does sound a little silly. I mean, coming from a scientist such as yourself. You want me to find a - a 'medium' - to help us locate Garak and Odo?" A smile, very annoying and very broad, spread over her face.

"That's not so strange." I stabbed a piece of carrot viciously with my fork. "On Earth, people like that were occasionally enlisted to help the police locate missing -" Her smile widened and I stopped talking. She sensed, finally, that she had gone a little too far with her ridicule, because she reached out and took my free hand and held it.

"I'm sorry we haven't found them yet. I'm very upset about this too. And I know you've been losing sleep and getting very worked up over it." I nodded; "getting very worked up" was as nice a euphemism as any for my drunken evenings, "But you have to face the reality that we may not find them for a long, long while. We may..." and she stopped and looked down at the table,"... we may possibly never find them. But life needs to go on. For all of us - no one is alone here. We all need them and we all miss them. Whatever happens, whatever we find out, we'll face it together. But it does no good to listen for strange sounds on the communicator and weird taps in the walls." Weird taps in the walls? I had told no one but the chief about those. I had noticed them two nights earlier and they had only been getting stronger since then. So much for private conversations.

"All right, Major. I understand. You're right. I'll let the search continue without trying to add any more drama to it." I fell silent and, after a moment or two, Kira rose and left me alone in the replimat. I cradled my face in my hands and closed my eyes, not really caring who noticed.

Someone evidently had, because a few seconds later, I heard the rustle of fabric and sensed a person sliding into the seat across from me. I opened my eyes and looked at my uninvited visitor through spread fingers. Pink, lots and lots of pink, all the way from the tips of her pink-frosted hair to the soles of her sparkling pink shoes. Her eyes and lips were thickly coated with a similar sparkling pink layer. She was young, not unattractive despite the overdone costume, and definitely a sight in the drab confines of the replimat - why had I not noticed her there before that moment?

"Excuse me," she stammered; I didn't reply, so she stammered again, "Excuse me, ah, Doctor - Doctor Bashir. I'm very sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing." I sighed and took my hands away from my face. "But it's all right! Don't be embarrassed. I mean, I'm glad you and your friend were so loud." I winced. "I never would have known otherwise. And I'm so glad I found out. You see," she lowered her voice, although there was no one else in the room any longer but the two of us, "I can help you." 

My head snapped up. "You can? How?"

"Easy. I'm, well, I'm - psychic." She waited for that to sink in. "I don't know if you'd call me a medium, exactly, but..." She leaned in toward me. "I HAVE been able to communicate with lots and lots of people who were, well, d-, I mean, people who have passed on. From this world. From this - space." 

"Ah."

"You don't believe me."

"No, no, it's not that, Miss -"

"Henkin. Vaara Henkin."

"Well, Miss Henkin, it's just that - I mean, I know there are humans who do have some sort of gift, but - but I'd hate to think that it's only for sensing those who have 'passed on.' I like to think that the living can send forth such... emanations too."

"Oh, first of all, I'm not human, Doctor Bashir. I'm El-Aurian." I did a double-take and looked more closely into her pink-lidded eyes - yes, it was true that El-Aurians were virtually indistinguishable from humans externally, and she'd have had no reason to lie in any case, as far as I could guess. The name, too, certainly sounded El-Aurian, in that vaguely exotic way that all El-Aurian names did. And if it were indeed the case that she shared that heritage, then it was common knowledge, even to a Bajoran like the Major, that the El-Aurian race had a gift, an incontestable gift of empathy and perception. But there were so few El-Aurians in the Federation after their tragic history with the Borg, and if one were indeed on the station, I should have been told... shouldn't I?

Oh well, maybe not. Maybe her presence was fated to make itself known to me just at the time I most needed her. Vaara, in fact, was perhaps exactly what I needed to get to the bottom of the odd sounds and sensations I had been experiencing. If she felt there was something there, some reason for belief, then who was I to argue? El-Aurian minds could transcend time and space, couldn't they? That was the commonly-accepted rumor and I saw no reason to doubt it now. "And second of all," she was continuing, "I misspoke. I didn't mean to imply that I could only sense those who had moved on to another sphere of existence. There are all sorts of dimensions in this universe - are there not?" She looked directly into my eyes and smiled, almost shyly, her pink lips forming a little pout. I was mesmerized.

"Yes, there certainly are, Miss -"

"Vaara."

"Vaara. There certainly are, and I fervently hope that my lost friends are simply trying to reach me from another quadrant, not another life. But if the latter is the case, then I want to know that too. And you can help me?"

"I can help you." She nodded and then gave a sort of a giggle. "When would you like to begin?"

"When are you free?"

"Later tonight, for one thing. Is that too soon?" I shook my head. "Then, say 2200 hours?"

"That would be perfect. Where should we - do this?"

"Anywhere you like, doctor," she smiled. I began to blush, then re-assumed my businesslike attitude.

"Please call me Julian." I had been too distracted to correct her earlier, as for that matter, I had been much too distracted to have even SEEN her earlier. But what a gift from out of the blue she had turned out to be. I couldn't wait to begin.

"Al right - Julian. We can do this anywhere you like, but I suggest a quiet, private place within reasonable distance of the most recent manifestations."

"I agree. My quarters, then."

"Sounds perfect." I told her the location. "I'll see you then - Julian. 2200 hours." She started to rise.

"Wait!" I reached out and grabbed hold of her arm a little forcefully. "Is there anything I should bring? Anything I should get ready?"

"No, just a table, and a couple of chairs. And a bottle of wine would be nice. And maybe something to eat, something light." She smiled coyly.

"Oh, of course, of course." I saw absolutely nothing remarkable about her request. A good host should, after all, offer his guests food and drink. "And there's one more thing I forgot to ask you. I don't want to embarrass you, but I'd like to compensate you in some way for your time and trouble." 

"Compensate me?" she asked, puzzled.

"You know - pay you. Offer you some remuneration in thanks for your efforts." She looked the slightest bit shocked. 

"Doctor - Julian - I offer to help you simply because I heard your pain and I want to assist. For me to ask for MONEY," she almost spat out the word, "would be rather crass of me, don't you think?" I nodded, then shook my head.

"No - I'm sorry; all I meant was that you're fully entitled to a reward for your efforts. No offense was intended."

"Then none is taken. Well..." She seemed to consider. "Let's just see how successful my efforts are, before we discuss terms." She smiled enigmatically. "I'll see you later, Julian. Don't forget the wine." I watched her go, then within less than a moment felt a palpable tap on my shoulder. I turned - no one was behind me. But I had most definitely felt a tap. Hadn't I? I whispered, "Garak?" No answer. I waited, then sighed. I could hardly wait for 2200 hours.

 

Neither could Miss Henkin - Vaara - who appeared at my door at just about 2130, as I was still in the midst of my preparations; I had just stepped out of the shower and was toweling my still-damp hair dry the old-fashioned way. "Have a seat," I told her, indicating the couch, which she proceeded to drape herself across; she was now dressed in some sort of feathery pink robe that sent little bits of fluff into the air as she moved. I called for music and Earth classical piano softly filled the room; I don't know why I thought that choice appropriate, but there it was. It certainly seemed to suit Vaara, who leaned back and closed her eyes while I moved my small table into position in the center of the room and drew two chairs up to it. Then I beckoned to her; she blinked.

"Huh?"

"Should we begin?"

"Right now?" I nodded. "What about the wine?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Forgive my bad manners, Miss Henkin - it's just that I'm so eager to get started and to find out if you can indeed, ah, 'sense' anything." I smiled my most winning smile - I hoped - and she got to her feet with a little sigh of frustration that I didn't miss. But she then seemed to gather herself, and her robe, about her as I added, "We could try this for a little while and then take a break - is that all right?"

"Sure. Sure, it's all right. I understand." She sat down at the table, put her palms up to her forehead, and closed her eyes. I waited, uncertain of what I should do next, when one hand impatiently beckoned me forward and I sat down across from her. Eyes still closed, she began to inhale and exhale loudly as I stared. 

"Should I - dim the lights, Miss Henkin - Vaara?" She didn't answer, but continued to breathe loudly with her eyes closed, both her hands reaching out to clasp mine across the table. I stared at her, open-mouthed.

 

Elim Garak, standing next to the window in Doctor Julian Bashir's quarters, also stared open-mouthed at the ritual taking place a few meters in front of him, while Odo, the shape-shifting chief of security, harrumphed loudly from the couch nearby. "El-Aurian, my ass," he growled.


End file.
